


Finding Him

by liamdunbagel



Category: Captain America (Movies), Captain America - All Media Types, Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe, Amnesia, M/M, Memory Loss, Post-Avengers: Age of Ultron (Movie), Stony - Freeform, rating may be subject to change later on
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-05-03
Updated: 2016-05-03
Packaged: 2018-06-06 02:03:11
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 911
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6733528
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/liamdunbagel/pseuds/liamdunbagel
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Steve Rogers wakes up with no recollection of who he is.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Finding Him

**Author's Note:**

> This idea has been bouncing around in my head lately and I figured I might as well write it. Also, I'm seeing Civil War this Saturday, and as a Stony shipper lets just say I'm a bit nervous. Excited, but nervous. So I wrote a fic.
> 
> follow my lovely beta at http://eyesxsewnxopenx.tumblr.com/post/133847971117/free-editor-free-beta-reader :-)

He feels strange.

It’s not that he’s in pain- no, that’s not it, he feels fine. Honestly – it’s just that something’s off. He’s lying on a bed in a small, empty room, with the window open and the curtains blowing in a slight breeze. He tries to move his arms. They feel too big, as if they weren’t his, but they aren’t heavy. He inhales through his nose: cotton and dust. The room is pale white, sparsely decorated with only the bed and a brown radio atop a small, white table. He breathes in again, this time through his mouth, and then sits up.

He looks down- has he always been this big? – and cocks his head to the side. There’s a game being broadcasted on the radio. A baseball game, he recalls. 

“This fellow’s capable of making it a brand new game again!”

“Roger hits the third, here comes the relay-”

He smiles. He remembers this game; the Yankees won. He tries to remember when it was but for some reason, he couldn’t. He does, however, remember the way the crowd cheered when the Yankees won, and the way his cheeks hurt from smiling, and the peanuts flying into the air as friends and family hugged and cheered and pounded their fists- 

Wait. If he remembers going to the game, why is it being broadcasted now? 

Just then, a nurse walks in. He eyes her as he hears honking from the window. If he hears honking, why can’t he smell any car exhaust?

The nurse offers him a bright smile. “Good morning,” she checks her watch, “or should I say good afternoon?”

Who is she?

“Where am I?” he asks.

His voice surprises him; it doesn’t seem foreign like everything else. 

“You’re in a recovery room, in new York city.” 

Why does he only hear honking? Shouldn’t he hear shouting, or laughter, or the sounds of a city?

He feels his stomach churn. “Where am I, really?”

Her smile falters. “I’m afraid I don’t understand, Captain Rogers.” Who is Captain Rogers?

He stands, willing his voice not to quiver when he says, “The game being broadcasted. It’s not from today, and don’t tell me it is because I was there. Why are you trying to trick me? Where am I?”

The woman’s smile falls. “Captain Rogers-“

“Why do you keep calling me that? Who is Captain Rogers?”

He tries to walk towards her, but she presses a button and suddenly there are men filling the room with strange guns and black, padded vests labeled “S.H.I.E.L.D”. What is S.H.I.E.L.D?

The men rush towards him, and he backs away towards the wall, only the wall isn’t a wall because he breaks right through it. Dust flies everywhere, he looks back to see that the room isn’t a room at all, but some sort of elaborate illusion in the middle of an even bigger, real room. Well, at least he thinks it’s real. Is it? He nearly trips over two men unconscious on the ground. He sees the woman before staring at him with a gun pointed straight at him, and his first instinct is to run.

He bursts through a set of double doors and finds himself in a hallway surrounded by men and women in strange black suits. Somewhere, in the distance, someone yells “All agents code 13, I repeat code 13,” and the voice seems to resonate from the walls. Suddenly everyone is running after him, and he feels a sharp pang of fear.

He bounds out of the building, barefoot, mildly aware of something nicking his feet, but he feels no pain. He narrowly avoids a car barreling towards him. He sees cars everywhere, in front of him and behind him and all around him. He runs anyways. He can’t stop and think. He can’t focus. So many things flash by him as he runs, different people and flashing signs and things he can’t recall ever seeing before. He turns for a moment and notices a set of black cars racing after him. He tries to round a corner and lose them, but instead of turning he starts to move sideways, and he flails his arms trying to stop but he can’t and oh god there’s a glass right there-

He crashes through the glass.

It doesn’t hurt as badly as he figured it would. He brushes himself off, apologizes to the shopkeeper and stands, only to realize he’s surrounded. Men in those strange padded vests stand all around him with their guns trained clearly at him. He feels caged in, like an animal, and sees nowhere to run. Everyone is staring at him. Why? Where is he? Who are these people? Why can’t he control his movements? Why does his body feel so foreign? Why doesn’t he remember anything? Why does he feel so strange-

“Steve!”

Is that his name?

A man with dark hair and blue eyes runs towards him. He looks like he’s about to hug him, but he restrains himself.

“Listen, buddy, I’m sorry about all that back there. We just wanted to break it to you slowly. You’ve been asleep for a while, and we thought it best if-”

“Who are you?” Steve interrupts.

The man blinks. He frowns and steps back as if Steve had slapped him. He opens and closes his mouth before he decides to speak. “It’s me, Steve. It’s Bucky.”


End file.
